


Serve, Obey, Protect

by Vana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, Role Reversal, rarepairs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 05:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5773177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/pseuds/Vana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Playing around with some other character dynamics...</p>
    </blockquote>





	Serve, Obey, Protect

**Author's Note:**

> Playing around with some other character dynamics...

**Serve**

In daylight hours and in the blazing nights, Areo Hotah served. He fetched, carried, strode, advised as he was needed. He sometimes lifted the prince bodily and massaged his ankles and the lines on his careworn face. 

But in the twilight when Prince Doran’s pain lessened and almost seemed to disappear — when Areo’s ax brand almost felt like it would burst from his chest with its reminder — when the sun was gentle and the stars whispered peacefully over the sands — then it was the prince who served the captain. 

It was quiet, always quiet. Doran Martell was never one to make a fuss and Hotah would have fallen on his own longaxe before dishonoring his prince. The chattering of the household and the rustling of the leaves muffled even Areo’s damp heavy breaths, but Doran was silent, only his spare body and hands expressive and eloquent.

 

**Obey**

He was a simple man, was Areo. He had grown up simply — first in starvation and poverty, then with discipline and among the strict order he loved so much. Prince Doran both sustained the order that Areo must have to survive, and he disrupted it. 

Time became confused and looped around itself — so much less simple — when Doran would somehow order Areo to command him. At first Areo had no idea what it meant. As they grew together in age and troubles, he understood more — his prince needed this, needed to not rule, needed to be ruled. Even if only for a small space of his time, Doran had to — had to be forced to — let go of his cold and quiet command.

As they grew together, Areo realized that Doran had been right. The hour he spent exacting his pleasure from Doran made the time he served and obeyed even sweeter. At Dornish tables the searing spice of the pepper pricked the syrup of the oranges. Hotah ate greedily of them both, hiding his pleasure behind a large hand.

 

**Protect**

It was nothing to stand for sixteen hours on guard for his prince, nothing to shadow Doran from morning until late after moonrise. Nothing to train for hours to defend the prince against any attackers unseen and seen. The axe was a comforting weight in his hand. 

But he could not protect Doran against heartache — the heartache of the betrayal of his daughter. Arianne Martell, young and beautiful, fierce as any warrior, had become mastered by her anger and had driven a wedge between herself and her suffering father and it made Areo physically hurt to see it. 

“When Father dies,” Arianne had asked Areo once, “will you serve me as you served him?”

“If it is the prince’s wish,” Hotah had replied, not looking into her keen face. Yes, she was lovely — all brown curves and flashing black eyes. Many men had had her and many more wanted her. She was likely certain that the captain did as well. _Please, princess, do not press me._

“He is lucky to have you,” Arianne mused. “Loyalty is never so easily found nowadays.” 

Areo did not answer, but stood staring out at the open desert. Only his silence would protect his prince — and the princess — and himself.


End file.
